


Be a riot, 'cause I know you

by Nacre_Voit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Drunk Sex, M/M, Originally part of a larger unfinished fic I never posted, Pining, Possible compromised consent warning for sex with both parties drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nacre_Voit/pseuds/Nacre_Voit
Summary: “I never want to come down,” Harry says.Two times that Louis and Harry fucked and felt lonely.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LithiumCrystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumCrystal/gifts).



> These are two parts of a much, much bigger Larry fic that I wrote (with my eternally patient at putting up with my shit muse LithiumCrystal) and never finished. Written after Midnight Memories but before Four and not particularly based in anything factual-timeline-wise that was actually going on then. It was really silly and crack-y in parts and so much fun to write but also full of intense pining angsty sex because I'm always a slut for suffering. I reread it last night and decided these two parts were (predictably because they're angsty) my favourite ones, and they were pretty symmetrical, and I decided I'd like to put 'em up. Might put up other bits and pieces from this but might not, not sure. 
> 
> Title from 'Robbers' by The 1975. If you're here because of my Matty/George fic you can thank writing the second scene in this while listening to Robbers for getting me into The 1975 in the first place. Or curse it because that fic is unfinished, whichever you like.

 

It’s been a completely normal day in what is apparently Louis Tomlinson’s life lately, meaning that everything is as far from normal as possible, and Louis’s pretty sure that every other person around him is losing it, and is in a perpetual state of disbelief due the fact that none of them appear to _understand_ that.

First it was Liam cheerfully calling out “Put your back into it, Malik!” as telltale loud banging noises came through the walls of the bunks while Louis was trying to drink his coffee at 6:45a.m. Louis supposes it’s a blessing in disguise, as finding a diplomatic way to wake Harry up in the morning has never been easy. What Louis couldn’t get over was the fact that Niall was in the bunks _with_ them. Not with them in bed, but stubbornly posted in his own bunk with earplugs.

Having apparently decided that no place or surface is safe from his band’s sexual activities, Niall’s taken to protecting his own small area by blockading himself in his bunk with packets of Milky Ways and the curtains literally duct-taped shut while he watches ‘80s classics at full volume, which is absolutely _great_ , because now when Louis’s not listening to Liam and Harry fucking while he’s trying to sleep, he’s listening to _Back to the Future_ while he’s trying to sleep, and Louis’s literally going to strangle all of them individually.

Then in the afternoon after soundcheck it was Perrie on the phone loudly interrogating Zayn about the finer points of everyone fucking Harry like it was a perfectly socially acceptable thing to do.

“It’s like, the best game of pass the parcel ever!” Her voice had piped happily through the phone. “Do you ever, like, all get in a circle and pass him around in your laps?” Liam had patted Niall on the back as he choked on his vanilla milkshake, while Harry buried his flushed face in his arms mumbling, “I’m going to die.”

Zayn had only blushed and rubbed his hand over his forehead in affectionate embarrassment.

“Perrie, oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that.”

After he had eventually distracted her and said goodbye, Louis had given him his best judgemental look.

“Your relationship is weird.”

“So’s yours,” Zayn had smiled, which was cryptic as always because Louis and Eleanor were in an ‘off’ phase of their on and off thing.

“Like, it doesn’t bother you at all that your girlfriend actively tries to persuade you to get involved in gang bangs with other guys?”

“Nah,” Zayn had said affably. “I love her.”

Louis cursed Zayn’s unattainable serenity.

After the show, Louis had taken a long walk around the venue to prevent anyone from interfering with his high with their weird-arse behaviour, only to enter their trailer and find Harry being weird all alone on the sofa.

“Uh, Harry…what exactly is it that you imagine you’re doing?” Louis had asked, because Harry definitely appeared to be watching Animal Planet and weeping, and Louis hoped he was missing something here.

Harry turned around and started making large expressive hand gestures as he tried to explain.

“The baby antelope got separated from its mum.”

“Alright then, Harry,” Louis had said as he backed away slowly.

After they’d headed off and been on the road for about an hour, there was a problem with the bus and they stopped. Louis had been hoping it would mean a peaceful hour of lying in his bunk writing lyrics, a hope which is dashed when he looks through his curtains and sees Harry climbing over a fence into a field. Louis sighs and hits himself in the face with his notebook before he heads off after him, as apparently no one else is _watching_ him. If they were, Louis assumes he wouldn’t be being allowed to disappear into a field somewhere and get abducted or attacked in the dark by confused cows, for fuck’s sake.

Following an attempt to vault over the fence that ends in a less dignified fashion than Louis would have liked, he catches up with Harry as he approaches a hill.

“Oi, Harry! What the fuck do you think you’re up to?”

“Louis!” Harry cries happily. “Run up this hill with me, Louis!”

“Like fuck will I do that-” Louis begins, but Harry is already legging it. And Louis is only running after him up this fucking hill because Harry’s likely to do himself an injury if Louis isn’t watching him, and Louis’s not going to be responsible for carrying five feet and eleven inches of flailing idiot with a broken ankle through this fucking field.

He’s breathless before he gets to the top, and Harry’s already collapsed on his back under the stars, so Louis lies down beside him. Louis watches the rapid rise and fall of Harry’s chest and Harry seems to sense his gaze and turns towards him. Harry watches him with a serious look for minute, and then it’s like he finds something in Louis’s face, and his lips break into a grin before he sticks his pink tongue out.

“What?” Louis asks. Harry only sticks his tongue out further. Louis smacks him in the ribs. And then they’re wrestling on top of some hill in a field, and for once no one is staring at them except for a handful of stars strewn all over the place, and Louis forgets to think about anything except for what all of Harry’s angles feel like in his hands.

He’s still laughing when Harry gets on top of him and kisses him, and Louis _shouldn’t_ , because he’s been trying to stop using Harry for _this_ , and Louis feels like the fact that it’s already a habit he’s struggling with is a sign that at some point something went drastically wrong with him and everyone around him.

 He fists his hand in Harry’s hair and pulls him into him.

Harry’s tongue inside his mouth is sweet and wet, and Louis arches into it and opens wider for him as Harry sighs inside him like it’s where he belongs. When their lips are slick and they’re panting, Harry leans back on his knees until he’s sitting in Louis’s lap and pulls off his top.

Louis licks Harry’s spit off his lips as he watches Harry’s nipples peak in the cold.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting naked,” Harry says with an adorable grin. “This is a great place for getting naked.”

“This is literally the worst place to get naked at our present location. This is probably private property. We could be arrested.”

“They can’t arrest both of us,” Harry says, and Louis considers trying to explain how the law works before Harry starts circling his hips in his lap and short-circuits his brain.

“We don’t have…stuff,” Louis says weakly.

Harry puts one hand in his pocket and triumphantly produces a strawberry-flavoured condom and a lubricant packet. Louis stares.

“Not to be rude or anything, but Harry why the fuck are you packing flavoured condoms?”

“I think Niall’s been putting them in all my pockets when I’m not looking,” Harry tells him, and yep, losing it completely, all of them, Louis thinks as he reaches for Harry’s fly.

Harry fingers himself fast, leaning back on one arm and whining as he impatiently tries to stretch for Louis as far as he can. Louis always gets hard over how desperate Harry always is for this, like Louis’s cock inside him is the best sensation Harry’s ever had. Louis’s favourite times are all the times that Harry’s initiated it, crawled into his bunk late at night embarrassed and moaning as he murmurs “Can I touch you, Louis? I got ready.” Harry always holds Louis’s hand like he’s so shy, tangling their fingers together as he guides Louis’s hand to the place where he’s already hot and stretched and waiting for him.

Louis wants to tell Harry that he can always slow down, wants to promise that he’ll still be lying here when Harry’s ready, that he couldn’t leave Harry right now if their fucking bus drove away. That he could watch Harry’s back arch under the stars for more hours than he can imagine.

All Louis can manage as Harry positions his cock is a shaky breath and “Look at me.”

Harry’s eyes instantly fall on Louis’s and Louis can feel that he’s flushing as hard as Harry is at how intimate that is as the head of his cock pushes inside Harry’s body.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry chokes as Louis gets all the way inside, his pupils blown and his hands anxiously kneading Louis’s chest as he tries to adjust, and when Louis works out how to breathe he tells him, “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

Louis rubs his hands over his stomach, eating up the play of the starlight over Harry’s tattoos as his stomach muscles quiver under his hands. Louis strokes over the tattoos again and again, because he’s noticed Harry gets off on his inked skin being touched, being licked and bitten and come all over, like he remembers the needles and it only sweetens the pleasure.

Harry moves slowly into Louis’s fingers on his skin as he begins to stop hurting. He tentatively angles Louis deeper and Louis’s hands come down to hold his hips. He can’t look away from Harry’s eyes, and Harry stares at him with a wide, almost shell-shocked look as he rides him in tight circles, because Louis’s never been great at looking at Harry’s eyes when they fuck and it’s like Harry’s afraid that if he blinks he’ll turn away.

Louis arches up harder and pulls Harry down on his cock. He shivers at Harry’s fingers splaying above his collar bone, softly touching Louis’s pulse. He hits the right angle and Harry throws his head back and drives his hips down hard, curls framed by stars and tumbling around his face. Louis’s fingernails are almost stabbing into Harry’s hips as he tries not to come from watching Harry’s arched throat work around his name.

Harry’s eyes are heavy-lidded as he looks down at Louis and strokes his cock. Louis touches his stomach and he watches it tense as Harry gets closer. Louis’s always fascinated by Harry’s body right as he’s about to come, taut and holding back with every muscle as he tries to give Louis pleasure for as long as he can. Harry curves forward as his thrusts get erratic, burying his hands inside the fabric of Louis’s shirt and pushing it aside as he puts his palm over Louis’s heart.

Harry cries out, and Louis’s heart beats fast under his hand. Louis watches, on the edge and in awe, as his fingers dig pink indents inside the ferns on Harry’s hips, before his whole body arches and he comes inside him, shivering as he feels the wet heat of Harry’s come in the night air, all over Harry’s hand, above Louis’s heart.

Louis lies and stares at the stars for a while as Harry tries to get his jeans on in the starlight. He can hear people calling their names now, and Louis’s pretty sure Simon’s going to be on the phone and merciless when he gets back. Louis doesn’t want to leave quite yet.

Eventually Harry sits beside him, wrapping his arms around his long legs. Louis watches the way that Harry’s eyelashes fan out and plaster themselves to the fine layer of sweat on his face as he blinks slowly.   

“I never want to come down,” Harry says.

Louis feels as though he’s falling under water. And Louis looks away.

 

*  
  
  


Louis is drunk. They’re all drunk, but Louis is winning, or that’s what he keeps announcing loudly to all of them. Paul definitely isn’t drunk, as he periodically walks into their trailer and lifts Louis down from each high surface that he’s taken it upon himself to climb on top of while Louis yells obscenities at him.

“Harryyyyy,” Louis says, his breath sweet as he drapes his arms around Harry’s shoulders from behind, stretching up on his toes and giggling into Harry’s throat. And Harry’s so overwhelmed with relief that Louis is being _normal_ around him, is being the Louis that he understands, that he feels _sick_.

They’d only been apart for just over a week, but they’d all voted in favour of Louis’s motion to get drunk in honour of their first night back together. Liam is taking the opportunity to interrogate Niall about his impervious heterosexuality in the face of recent events.

“It’s not awful with blokes like you think,” Liam is telling him, with an arm draped drunkenly over Niall’s shoulder, “It’s just different.”

Niall narrows his eyes at Liam over the caramel fudge sundae he’s nursing.

“That’s what you told me about getting up at 5am and working out instead of sleeping like a _normal_ person. Don’t _think_ I’ve forgiven you for that, you great twat.”

“But Harry’s got a mouth like-”

Niall clamps a hand over Liam’s mouth as Liam gestures vigorously.

“If you ever talk to me about Harry’s mouth again I swear to God I will make you wish you were hungover on a call with Simon after one of your Twitter rants.”

“What’s wrong with my mouth?” Harry asks, slurring a little and flushing happily as Louis pushes his face into his neck.

“I miss the times when it was just for eating pussy and bananas,” Niall says with far-away, nostalgic look in his eyes.

“You did make out with Wiz Khalifa that one time,” Zayn says, and Niall nods in affirmation.

“Yup,” Niall says, looking neither remotely embarrassed nor convinced that making out with Wiz Khalifa was gay.  “I could go another round. I gave him my number. I thought we could hang out. He hasn’t called me though.” Niall actually looks slightly put out.

Harry smiles to himself as he watches Liam’s arm snake around Zayn’s waist and Zayn’s eyelashes flutter as he leans into it.

“You smell good,” Louis is murmuring into his throat, and Harry feels warm and shy and like he’s where he belongs as he whispers back, “You smell the best.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit,” Niall says, looking more fondly exasperated than anything else as he looks at Louis and Harry. Harry grins and blows him a kiss.

“Fuck off, Niall,” Louis says, “We don’t need you anyway. We’ll start a new band called ‘Louis Tomlinson and the Pretty One’.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry says, “I have talents.”

“I will use literally all of your fucking talents,” Louis whispers into his ear, and Harry gets too caught up by the butterflies in his stomach to protest at all. He doesn’t even think that he wants to. He leans back into Louis, flushed and drunk on Louis’s weight against his spine, and Louis could use him tonight, if he wanted to. Harry would take it, for tonight.

Harry tries to stay a few drinks behind Louis as they all get more and more drunk. He doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and fuck it all up again. It’s hard not to rest his head in Louis’s lap when Louis collapses on the sofa and pulls Harry down beside him. Louis’s blue eyes are wide and bright and Harry never wants to stop looking at them as Louis sings the lyrics to some song that only Louis understands when he’s quiet and drunk and beautiful like this.

Zayn and Liam have stopped wrestling over some pretend, drunken pretext, and they’re lying on the carpet with their legs entwined, watching the wall as Zayn slowly turns his glass so that it scatters light all over its surface. Niall has fallen asleep curled up on the two-seater. He has a small smear of caramel fudge above his lip. Harry wants to get up and look for a blanket for him, but Louis’s fingers on his thigh are holding him where he is like a heavy weight.

Louis leans over and pushes his fingers into Harry’s hair. Harry closes his eyes and tries to focus on Louis’s fingers. It feels a little like he’s drowning.

“I want to show you something,” Louis is telling him, and Harry doesn’t open his eyes.

“Show me.”

“Follow me.”

Louis is leading him by the hand, and Harry hears Liam calling out to them, but it’s like his voice is only coming from far away, and Harry follows Louis out of the trailer. When they reach a wire fence near the last of the trailers, Louis pushes him against it.

“Did you want to show me the fence?” Harry asks, because he knows they’re not really supposed to be wandering around here, so late at night.

“You’re hysterically funny, has anyone ever told you that?” Louis says, and Louis is too close, so close that Harry’s heart starts racing in his chest. It’s _really hard_ to pull back when Louis kisses him. It’s so hard that Harry’s chest really _hurts_ , and he wants to shake and laugh at the same time because he’s drunk and he doesn’t really understand what’s happening to him.

He just suddenly knows that he never wants this again if Louis’s going to walk away from him at the airport again without looking back, if Louis won’t want him near his family or want to fall asleep on his chest when they’re in his bed watching a movie, with his hair covering his eyes and his breath slow and steady on Harry’s throat. He doesn’t want that taken away over just skin. But he wants to touch Louis more than he’s ever wanted to touch anyone.

“Louis, I don’t think you really want to-”

“Tell me more about what I do and don’t want, I fucking love it when people do that,” Louis snaps, but he doesn’t step back.

“Last time-” Harry tries, and his voice sounds small as Louis presses his body against him.

“Last time you were _really_ beautiful,” Louis murmurs, and Harry is really shaking now. “You’re already getting hard,” Louis whispers in awe, and then he must feel the tremors all over Harry’s body, because he steps away. He’s almost a metre away from Harry now, looking tiny in the darkness, and Harry’s amazed by how quickly the cold air rushes over all the places that Louis was covering. His nipples get hard and sensitive and Harry knows that Louis can probably see them through the thin fabric of his shirt. Harry wonders what he looks like and shivers.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks. “Don’t you want…is it not alright with…?” Louis’s face looks insecure for once, and Harry’s never heard him try to get words to form and stumble. That’s what Harry’s so good at. And Harry hears the pieces of Louis’s thoughts, hears ‘ _Don’t you want me anymore?_ ’ and ‘ _Is it not alright with me? Is it only for anyone else who wants you?_ ’, and Harry suddenly feels awful about more than one thing.

“I always want it with you,” Harry says, and when Louis’s mouth closes on his, warmth melts over Harry like he’s just come.

He follows Louis blindly toward the venue, hovering over him as he fumbles with a gate.

“It’s locked,” Harry tells him, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Wow, can’t get anything past you. I _might’ve_ swiped some keys from Paul’s pocket when he was carrying me earlier. I’m thinking they might open something around here. Aha!” Louis says as the gate opens.“Louis Tomlinson wins again, Paul.” Harry looks at him in disbelief.

“You _stole_ from _Paul_.”

“But Harry, I wanted to be alone with you,” Louis drawls, with pretty, mocking eyes, and Harry’s stomach flutters anyway.

“You’re an idiot,” he mutters as they slip through the gate, and Louis grins at him through the darkness.

“Not the one who gets confused by his own feet here.” And then they’re making out again, stumbling through the dark halls of the venue, pushing each other against the walls and laughing and not caring as their bodies set off lights, kissing more and more until they’re breathless. Louis pushes open the door to their dressing room and walks inside, holding onto Harry’s wrist. Louis’s fingers are suddenly tight, and when he turns to Harry he’s biting his lip like he’s nervous, so Harry leans into him.

“Did you bring me here to fuck me?” he whispers. “Where do you want it?”

Louis lowers his eyelashes and doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“I thought you could fuck me.”

“I-” Harry swallows, overwhelmed for a moment by the arousal that rushes uncontrollably over his body. “We haven’t done that before.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I figured I would’ve remembered it.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Then I’ll say ‘Wow, this is really pretty awful’ while you’re fucking me.”

“I don’t even know if I’m good,” Harry stumbles, “I’ve only ever, with Zayn, and I-”

“Do you want to talk about fucking other guys tonight, or do you want to fuck me up the arse?” Louis snaps. “Completely up to you.”

Harry tries to speak and ends up shrugging helplessly as he looks at his shoes.

“I just want you.”

Louis’s face is softer when Harry looks up.

“Hey.” Louis pulls off his top and puts Harry’s hands underneath his waist. “If you always want it with me, then do it with me,” he whispers. “Come on, do it to me like you want to.”

Louis’s skin feels fucking amazing, and Harry bites his lip.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated or anything,” Harry mumbles, trying to control the want that’s thrumming in his chest.

“Why would I feel fucking obligated? I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t _want_ it, you twat.”

Something in Harry crumbles as he laughs through all his nerves.

“You always say the sweetest things,” he says, and Louis gives him a mock-affronted look.

“What, now I’m not sweet enough for you? I’ll have you know, I am one of the sweetest people that you’ve ever met.”

Harry laughs again and Louis walks over to sound system in the corner and rifles through the mix CDs Harry’s left there. Louis frowns as he looks at scribbled handwriting in thick marker and then shrugs and puts one in. The 1975’s ‘Robbers’ comes on and Louis turns to Harry with a smirk on his lips.

“Look at that, _sweet_ , I got you music. You like this shit, don’t you?”

Harry walks over to Louis and backs him into the make-up table until Louis has to lean back.

“Yeah, I like that shit,” Harry says, and he grabs Louis’s arse with both hands and kisses him. Louis moans into his mouth as Harry kneads his arse and tugs at Harry’s hair. Harry flushes as Louis gets rougher, with his mouth and his hands, and Louis doesn’t complain when Harry lifts him back onto the table, just wraps his legs around Harry and fumbles with Harry’s belt, his fingers drunk and more desperate than usual, and yeah, Harry thinks, _sweet_.

“Do you jerk off listening to that?” Louis gasps out, tossing his head in the direction of the music player, always trying to have the last word, and Harry crawls over him and licks the inside of his mouth.

“Thinking about you,” Harry says, not caring that it’s true as he presses his cock against Louis through their jeans, just caring that Louis’s warm and ready for this underneath him.

“Oh really?” Louis asks, undoing the fly on Harry’s jeans.

“Like this,” Harry murmurs, pulling Louis’s hand down onto his cock and rubbing into it, hips coming forward almost of their own accord.

Louis reaches up to touch Harry’s face as the lyrics ‘ _You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face_ ’ come out of the speakers and they look at each other for a moment. Harry hopes his smile isn’t as nervous as he feels, hopes that he looks ‘pretty’, or good, or _something_ , until Louis says “Come on, come here” and pulls him down.

Harry is moaning over and over, crushed against Louis’s chest as he kisses him and raises Louis’s hips to drag his jeans down around his thighs. Harry struggles to pull his own t-shirt over his head and almost collapses on Louis because he doesn’t want to stop kissing him. Louis arches his spine as he kicks off his jeans, and Harry feels Louis’s pulse in his stomach as their sweaty skin presses together. Harry sucks Louis’s neck, damp under his hair, and doesn’t want to let go as another singer’s voice throbs over them.

‘ _Be a riot, ’cause I know you._ ’

Louis’s hands come down to his lower back and knead the skin there. Harry’s heartbeat is too fast as he takes a condom and a small packet of lubricant out of his jeans. His hands just won’t work the way he wants, and he lets his hair fall over his eyes, feeling like a hopeless mess until Louis gets a fist in his hair again, pulling it out of his eyes and anchoring him like somehow Louis always does.

“How do you want…?” he asks, flushing as Louis looks up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Oh,” Louis falters. The song’s ended and the slow, aching vocals of that version of ‘Sex’ that Harry loves are filling up the room. Louis flushes and looks awkwardly away from Harry’s eyes. “Should I turn over?”

“I don’t want you to,” Harry blurts out, and Louis’s eyes fly back to his, wide and almost shocked. Harry wants to bang his head on the table. “Unless you want to, then I-”

“Would you _shut up_ and put your fingers in me? I’m alright like this.”

Harry feels like his whole body is flushed as he tears open the packet and wets his fingers.

“We don’t have tonnes of lube so if it’s hurting we don’t need to-”

Louis comes up off the table so suddenly that Harry has to grip onto his arm so that he isn’t thrown backwards.

“Why won’t you fucking let me try it for you?” Louis is drunk and something inside his eyes looks _bruised_ , and Harry holds tightly onto his arm and stares into them because he’s so shocked that he can’t look away. “Don’t try to get out of it when you fucking want it because you think I’m too fucking fragile for you. I had a fucking wet dream about _you_. I woke up with come all over me because of how _you_ look when I fuck you. So yeah, it might fucking hurt a bit, but I _want_ it, alright? I want to feel it tomorrow night while I’m listening to you _fuck_ Liam, is that what you need me to tell you? What do you need? ‘Fuck me until it hurts’? ‘Fuck me until-”

Harry snaps out of his stupor and kisses Louis hard. And _God_ , he wants to say _a lot_ to Louis as the pulse in Louis’s arm where he’s grabbing it throbs along with Harry’s cock. The words won’t come out, so he just pushes at Louis’s chest until Louis gives in and falls back onto the table. Harry coaxes Louis to tilt his hips up and slowly pushes his legs backwards.

“I don’t need anything,” Harry murmurs, hoping the words are enough as he puts a finger inside Louis for the first time. Louis’s breath hitches as he puts another finger inside and Harry moans at the feeling of Louis’s breath on his lips and _Louis_ tight around his fingers. “God, you’re so pretty, Lou.”

“Don’t call me pretty,” Louis says, but there are tears in his eyes as Harry stretches his fingers. Louis is breathing in tiny hiccups, lips parted like they won’t close for him if he tries, and Harry leans down and licks his neck.

“You’re doing-”

“If you tell me I’m doing fine, I will fucking choke you. Now fuck me.” Louis spreads his legs further, trying to hide his wince at the stretch, and Harry flushes, feeling self-conscious about how much smaller Louis’s body is than his. He wonders what Louis sees in him, all huge hands and clumsy, always falling limbs. And Harry had meant to say ‘so good’, ‘ _You’re doing so good, Lou_ ’, but he swallows it and nods.

He feels awkward as he pushes himself up from the table onto the floor to get his jeans all the way off. Louis looks more beautiful than anything that Harry can remember, and he feels like he’s gotten too sensitive just looking at him. He shudders as he puts the condom on and strokes himself with his wet hand. He has to close his eyes against the sensation for a moment before he climbs on top of Louis, thrusting his fingers inside him one last time.

Harry tries to push in slowly, tries to only push his cock just past the tightest part of Louis’s body, but Louis just wraps his legs tightly around Harry’s waist and tilts his hips up, pulling him inside. Harry swears and shudders as he tries to focus on Louis’s eyes. They’re blown wide with lust and distress, and Harry just bites his lip and tries to push Louis’s hair away from his eyes over and over again. Louis is making an ‘Uuhh’ noise that sends shivers through Harry’s body. It makes a piece of him want to fuck Louis hard, but he forces himself to keep still.

Harry can tell from Louis’s eyes that he’s feeling pain, and another part of him only wants to pull away and check that Louis’s alright. He wants to yell at Louis for always trying to be _tough_ at stupid times and he wants to kiss his forehead and his eyelids and his chest. He doesn’t pull away, or yell, or kiss Louis anywhere, because he’s too afraid that Louis will turn away from him, light up a cigarette and say that this was a stupid idea anyway.

Sometimes Harry remembers the first time that Louis fucked him. He remembers waking up to the sensation of Louis on top of him, waking up to Louis’s smell, and how Louis’s mouth tasted when they kissed, _really_ kissed, for the first time. He remembers how it felt to have Louis’s thighs sliding against his and Louis’s cock thrusting inside him, melting away all the fantasies and replacing them with something that made pleasure and warmth soak through his body until he was gasping. He remembers trying to curl up on his side afterwards with his back against Louis’s chest, because when they’d shared a bed before Louis had always liked being the big spoon, even though he was smaller, and Harry had never cared.

And Harry remembers Louis leaving the bunk ten seconds later. He’d sat with his arms wrapped around his knees in his bunk by a gap in the curtains, just watching Louis smoke cigarette after cigarette outside, leaning against the side of the van and illuminated by the security lights. Harry had felt lonely and hypnotised as he watched Louis’s far-away eyes and the restless pull of his lips. He’d found his fingers touching the glass as Louis coughed, because Louis never smoked that much, and he looked so cold, in just soft sleep pants and a threadbare t-shirt. Something had clenched inside Harry’s chest as he wondered why Louis would rather be coughing on smoke, out in the cold, than pressed against his hot skin.

Harry swallows and looks down at Louis, running his palm along Louis’s sweaty chest as he watches its rapid rise and fall. He thinks about how much he’d wanted to feel Louis’s heartbeat against his back in the bed where they’d fucked, and thrusts inside him, just an inch, just trying to work out how to _take_ what he wants for once. Louis’s thighs tighten around him and Harry exhales and leans forward.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs, and Louis moans as his fingers rub at Harry’s hips, coaxing, but Harry doesn’t give in yet. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” And it’s _all_ , all he wants: for Louis to admit that just once.

“How would I fucking know how much you want it?” Louis breathes, and Harry looks right into his eyes, feeling drunk and brave and vulnerable.

“You know.” Harry feels like heat is pouring over him as Louis lets his head fall back on the table and stares up at his face. Louis cants his hips up and licks his lips as he swallows, slowly, deliberately, and Harry braces himself hard on his arms to stop himself from thrusting as his cock throbs inside Louis. Louis closes his eyes and opens them slowly. They’re wet and his voice is a hoarse whisper when he finally talks.

“More. I want it _more_.”

 Harry laughs, low and sore in his throat as he starts to thrust, because he thinks that there’s no one who wouldn’t crumple and fall apart if they wanted anything more than Harry’s wanted Louis for _four years_. He tries to thrust slowly, tries to find a rhythm that won’t make him come as fast as he feels like he’s going to. Louis feels so good inside that pleasure is already crawling up Harry’s spine, and he bites his lip as he fights against the building sensation. Louis’s head is tilted back but he’s still looking into Harry’s eyes. His eyelashes are leaving wet marks on his skin as he slowly blinks and his chest swells as he tries to breathe steadily, but Louis doesn’t look away.

Harry soaks in the eye contact, because it _never_ lasts this long with Louis. He changes the angle of his hips, trying to find that spot inside that feels good, and Harry doesn’t really know what he’s doing, because Zayn usually just grabs him until he gets his cock where he wants it and then rides. Louis’s legs are wrapped tightly around Harry’s waist and he’s beginning to lift his hips a little, biting his lip from the pressure when he does. Louis’s face is nervous and sweetly determined as he tries to hide the fact that the friction is hurting, is almost too much, and Harry’s chest aches as he leans forward and kisses him.

He remembers the first time that Liam fucked him with just a packet of lube, locked in a dark, tiny backroom in the V.I.P area of some nightclub, because Perrie and Zayn had been making out all night, and Liam wanted it _now._ Liam’s cock had felt huge inside him, the friction agonising and amazing, pushing Harry into a teary, oversensitised mess, cock-leaking as he gripped onto Liam’s shoulders. He doesn’t have Liam’s strong shoulders and soothing words, so he just tries angle after awkward angle, desperately trying to get Louis to feel what he feels when Louis fucks him, hoping even more desperately that Louis will ever want this again.

And Harry _knows_ when he’s hit that bundle of nerves inside him, because Louis chokes on air and turns away. Harry’s eyes smart as Louis stares fixedly at the wall and he reaches out and grabs his chin, turning Louis’s head so he has to face him. Louis’s eyes are as challenging as ever as he looks up at him, like he doesn’t care that they’re practically leaking with tears.

“Look at me, _please_.” Harry’s voice is a husky, ruined whisper, and he knows _exactly_ how his face must look from all those times in front of the mirror begging Liam to make him come. But somehow, all the bite goes out of Louis’s lip, and then Louis’s fingers are closing around his on his jaw, not tearing them off but joining their hands and pulling them slowly away. Louis reaches his arm back and joins the fingers of their other hands on the table, so that Harry arms are braced on Louis’s paler, more delicate ones.

“ _Alright_.” Louis’s voice is firm and wrecked all at once, and Harry shivers, because it’s been so long since he’s heard Louis forfeit his pride for _anyone_ , and now he’s letting go for _him_ , with his cock inside him in their dressing room on their first night back together. Harry’s hips snap forward, and Louis cries out. Harry doesn’t even try to slow down now, trying to focus on holding that angle that makes Louis’s back arch when he pushes deep inside him. His hips are driving into Louis faster as he looks at Louis’s blue eyes, spikes of pleasure shooting out all over his body from his cock inside Louis’s tight arse. “Fuck,” Louis says. Tears are streaming down his face as his cock pulses between them, but his eyes don’t break from Harry’s. “ _Fuck_.”

Harry bites down hard on his lip, desperate to hold off his orgasm for one more minute, for one more minute with Louis underneath him, but Louis looks into his eyes and clenches around him and Harry chokes and thrusts inside him until his cock won’t go any deeper. Louis’s thighs clamp down on his sides, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he pulls up onto Harry’s cock, working himself up and down, and Harry’s breathless as he watches his glazing eyes, because Louis’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you.” Louis’s voice is broken and Harry’s eyes sting like _fuck_ , because Louis’s drunk and he doesn’t want to come over this, doesn’t want to come over what’s going to be just some drunk _thing_ to Louis tomorrow, but Louis won’t stop. “I love you, fuck, _I love you_.” And Harry whines and buries his face in Louis’s neck and he comes so hard he almost sees stars, his weight falling on Louis’s chest as he wrenches his fingers away from Louis’s and fists Louis’s cock to bring him with him. Louis’s fingers clench around his where his left hand is still joined with Louis’s right. Harry tries to brace himself on one arm, shivering hopelessly as Louis’s come gets all over him and aftershocks tear over his body.

Louis’s eyes are wide and bright as he lies still underneath him, almost like they’re a brighter blue. He’s looking at the ceiling, and Harry rolls off a bit and lies beside him, trying to work out what he’s thinking. Louis passes him Lou Teasdale’s packet of make-up wipes, still looking at the ceiling, and Harry smiles even though he’s nervous, because Lou is going to be pretty miffed tomorrow. Louis turns to him and giggles into his throat.

“I’m drunk.” Harry’s stomach feels a little sick at Louis’s words, but he puts his fingers in Louis’s hair and Louis doesn’t turn away. “I’m fucked up.”

“I know.” Louis’s ribs are still moving up and down too quickly, and Harry lays his head on Louis’s chest, getting damp curls all over the inked words ‘It Is What It Is’. “Lou…is this…gonna be alright tomorrow?”

Louis snorts into his hair.

“Worried I won’t respect you anymore? God, you’re such a girl sometimes. Yeah, it’s going to be alright. You can return the favour with your arse while you cook me breakfast.”

“What’s wrong with being a girl?” Harry asks, feeling hurt as he gently bites at Louis’s skin. “And I don’t think Niall would like that.”

“Niall will deal with it,” Louis yawns. His breathing is getting slower and slower and his eyelashes are fluttering.

“Lou, we can’t sleep here.”

Louis rolls his eyes and leans so far over the edge of the table that Harry’s worried he’ll fall as he fumbles underneath it. He pulls himself up holding the heavy blanket that’s folded under the table and lazily tosses it over them. He wraps his fingers around Harry’s hip, coaxing until Harry turns on his side, letting Louis slide up close behind him.

“Louis, I don’t think this is what the fire blanket’s for.”

Louis just presses his chest against Harry’s damp shoulder blades and places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Harry’s throat, and Harry almost moans as warmth soaks over him.

“Just don’t leave me here tonight,” he whispers as his eyes close, and when he wakes up, Louis’s jumper is wrapped around him under the blanket, but Louis is gone.  
  
  
  
*

 


End file.
